


Death Won't Stop Me, Bitch

by Waffle-o (XylB)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, FAHC, GTA Universe, M/M, Multi, Sex, ghost!ray
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 07:07:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8362324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XylB/pseuds/Waffle-o
Summary: After death, Ray is a pain in the ass.





	

After death, Ray is a pain in the ass.

Seriously, they'll be trying to run a heist and Michael'll be riding away on a motorcycle, Ryan sitting behind him, twisting around to shoot the cops, and possibly using the rocket launcher to gun down the choppers whirring above them.

He'll miss a few shots – can't be perfect, and after all he's on the back of a dangerously fast bike – and as his rocket goes wide Ray'll pop in in front of Michael.

“Ryan, missing the chopper currently shooting right at him,” he says, deadpan. Michael waves a hand through him and Ray dissipates.

They'll disappear into the subway and then they'll be waiting out the cops, sharing a cigarette and sitting idly on the edge of the worker's platform. They've ditched the bike on the tracks a few feet in front of them.

The sirens will fade away as the cops lose them, and then Michael and Ryan are sitting in peaceful silence, adrenaline still pounding through them as they trade off on the nicotine.

“Michael and Ryan, again fucking up public transport,” Ray says, appearing in front of them, shaking his head at the bike. He looks at them. “It's guys like you that give criminals a bad rap.”

Ryan'll roll his eyes and flick ash at Ray, who flickers in and out of sight.

“Missed me,” he says, grinning.

Michael takes the cigarette and inhales deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs and turning to Ryan. He threads a hand through Ryan's hair and tugs him closer, until their lips are almost touching. Ryan seems to get it, opens his mouth and slots their lips together as Michael breathes out. Ryan breathes in smoothly, puffing the smoke out through his nose as he continues to kiss Michael.

“Aw, hey, no fair,” Ray pouts, crossing his arms.

“Hey, if you're not here to kiss your boyfriend, someone's gotta do it,” Michael replies, laughing as he pulls away.

Ray starts to say something, but Michael's radio crackles to life and Geoff's voice comes over.

“We're clear. Meet at the rendezvous point.”

“Okay, boss,” Michael says, stubbing the cigarette out on the concrete next to them.

\----

Gavin sometimes forgets Ray isn't solid. It's really fucking hilarious – at least until he nearly cracks his head open on the floor after falling for the fifth time in a row.

It could have something to do with the whiskey shots Michael's been pouring down his throat, but whatever.

Michael, who, admittedly, is a little busy right now, but he trusts someone else will catch Gavin.

His jaw's starting to ache in a good way, stretched wide around Jack's cock. Jack shifts on the sofa and casually sips his beer, watching Michael. Geoff, sitting next to Jack, cards a hand through Michael's hair, humming thoughtfully as he tilts Michael's head a little.

“Good at that, isn't he?” He murmurs. Jack nods and Geoff pulls Michael down a little farther, the head of Jack's dick pushing insistently at his throat.

“So unfair,” Ray grumbles as he shimmers into existence on the other side of Jack. “Ghosts can't even jerk off and you're showing me this?”

“You can leave anytime you like, Ray,” Geoff says.

“Oh, fuck you. Also I'm never leaving this. I mean, come on, just _look_ at him. That's too hot to pass up. Death won't stop me.”

Gavin comes over then, Ryan in tow.

“X-Ray!” He cheers, collapsing down on the sofa next to him and immediately attempting to hug him. Unsurprisingly, he goes right through him and bumps into Jack, who just chuckles and put an arm around his shoulders. Gavin's mumbling something about “bloody nothing ghost” when Ray reappears, kneeling next to Michael.

Michael cuts a glance over to him and then he swallows, pushing the head of Jack's cock down his throat. Jack grunts and Ray gasps softly, bringing up a hand to brush through the drool leaking from Michael's chin onto the floor.

“Ryan, Ryan, come here,” And Geoff's hand leaves Michael's hair as he reaches for Ryan, who obliges, ducking to kiss Geoff before being roughly pulled onto his lap.

Michael pulls up slowly, hollowing his cheeks and sealing his lips tight before he sucks back down, and it's another slow circuit before he really gets into it, bobbing up and down. Jack's moaning now, bucking up gently against him and then he's muffled, suddenly, as Gavin kisses him, a hand going down to stroke over Michael's cheekbone.

“Lovely, isn't he?” Gavin whispers between kisses. Jack nods and Michael sucks noisily to indicate his approval of the praise.

Somewhere to Jack's left, Geoff and Ryan are busy with each other, Ryan straddling Geoff and their hands in each other's trousers. Jack swears and tips his head back on the sofa, and Gavin looks down at Michael with swollen lips and wide eyes, absolutely captivated by the sight below him. He starts babbling then, like _he's_ the one getting blown, words tripping other each other in his haste to tell Michael how beautiful he is, how good he is for them, all sorts of nonsense that makes Michael moan around Jack. The vibration must set him off, because suddenly Jack's coming and Michael nearly chokes on it, but he recovers and soon he's swallowing it down, sucking greedily for every last drop.

There's a hushed, strangled “Fuck, Michael” from Ray beside him. Jack pants heavily and Michael slides off of his dick and smirks up at Gavin. Ray winks out of sight and then he's back, perched next to Gavin on the sofa as Michael surges up to kiss Gavin, licking gently over his busted lip and pushing remnants of Jack's come into his mouth.

“Michael Jones, champion cocksucker, everyone,” Ray says next to them, and he laughs loudly as Michael and Gavin both flip him off, still lip-locked.

“Ray, get over here,” Geoff orders, gruff, that rasp to his voice that rises when he's about to come.

Ray appears next to Geoff and he stares innocently up at Ryan, whose face is screwed up in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut and mouth slightly open. His hand works furiously in Geoff's boxers and Geoff's returning the favour, but – oh, but then Ray realises that Geoff's other hand is down the back of Ryan's jeans and Ryan's hips aren't rocking forward smoothly - they're stuttering and bucking back, fucking himself down on Geoff's fingers.

“Fuck, fuck, Geoff,” he spits, planting a hand on Geoff's shoulder and steadying his knees.

“Come on, come on, come for me,” Geoff growls, his hand moving faster on Ryan's dick.

“Oh, fucking – come _on_ this is _so_ not fair,” Ray groans, desperately wishing he could get hard because god _damn_ why is everyone hot? “Seriously, what the fuck? Did you all get hotter after I died?”

Geoff chuckles and Ryan's eyes fly open as he gasps Ray's name.

“Yeah, that's my name, don't wear it out,” Ray says, pointing finger guns at him and Ryan just moans his name again, riding Geoff's fingers faster, and if Ray listens, he can even hear the slick slide of the lube.

“Not gonna lie, Ryan, kinda really want you to fuck me right now,” Ray says, eyes glued to the drop of sweat rolling down Ryan's throat. Ryan makes some sort of choked moan and he shudders violently.

“Keep talking,” Geoff says, tattoos rolling as the muscles in his forearm work furiously. Ray relocates to standing behind Ryan, chin hovering over his shoulder as he talks. His hands come up to hover near Ryan's hips – it's a shame he can't grab them.

“Always fucked me so good, Ryan, remember that time on your bike? Got me bent over the seat and just went to fucking town right there in that alley. Anyone could've caught us – I'm surprised they didn't with how loud I was. Fucked the voice right outta me.”

Ryan whines and shakes and Ray really, _really_ wishes he was corporeal right now so he could kiss him.

“Liked when you did it rough, fucked me up against the wall and bruised me up real good – like a fucking wet dream, you were.”

Ryan stills abruptly and a low, broken moan escapes him before he comes, hips jerking between Geoff's hands and fuck, Ray forgot how good he looks when he comes.

“Fucking hell, Ryan,” he mumbles, transfixed by the sight of white come against dark inked knuckles.

Geoff groans and pushes his hips up into the dead weight Ryan's hand became a few minutes ago and Ryan has enough brain left to push back so Geoff can get some friction and then Geoff's voice goes high and cracks and he comes.

Ray smirks and watches the dark stain spread across the crotch of Geoff's suit trousers.

“Goddamnit, you ruined my suit,” he whines, frowning. Ryan just grins and looks over at Ray.

“Thanks,” he says, the innocent tone completely incongruous with what they've just done.

“Happy to help,” Ray smiles.

“Michael, it's gonna be all sticky in my hair!”

All three look over to a grinning Michael and a pouting Gavin, although the pout isn't as effective with strings of Michael's come all over his face, and, indeed, in his hair.

“Sorry,” Michael offers, shrugging one shoulder. Gavin scoffs and climbs up from the floor to sit in Michael's lap, looping his arms around Michael's neck.

“No you aren't,” he says, but then Michael starts licking come off his face in exaggerated, wet strokes and Gavin recoils, yelping, but Michael holds him firmly in place with an arm around his waist and a hand on his ass. Michael chuckles and keeps going.

Ray floats over to Jack and plops himself in his lap – well, plops as best he can, but he's actually just kind of existing in the space above Jack's lap, curled up like he would be if he had a fucking human body.

“Hey there,” Jack chuckles, smiling down at Ray before going back to staring idly at Michael and Gavin.

“Jack, do you think Gavin'll notice if I stick my feet in him?”

Jack shrugs. “I dunno. Try it.”

Ray thrusts a foot into the side of Gavin's body, and the reaction is immediate and hilarious. Gavin squeals and scrambles away from him and off of Michael's lap, shrieking that “that's bloody cold, Ray!” and kicking futilely at the offending foot. Michael fucking loses it, head tipped back and cackling loudly, a hand slapping against his thigh. Ray grins and moves his foot down, into Michael's thigh, and Michael curses and bats at him uselessly, swearing at him.

“Use your ghost powers for good, Ray!” He shouts, scooting away. Ray and Jack collapse into laughter, Jack's shoulders shaking above him.

\----

Ray appears at the weirdest fucking times.

Like, Michael'll be enjoying how perfectly Ryan's fucking him into the mattress and then there Ray is, commenting on Ryan's technique and wondering out loud if Michael can come without a hand on his cock.

Sometimes it's real dirty talk, fucking filthy shit designed to get them off, but most of the time it's dry humour and blatant insults – but it's not unwelcome.

Ray'll pop in while Gavin's driving, fleeing the newest crime scene and blasting old British rock as he weaves through cars on the highway, Jack sighing and trying to suppress a smile in the passenger seat. Gavin's only driving because Jack's chopper got blown up before they could reach it – Gavin's always the last resort driver.

“Gavin, probably about to die at the hand of one Jack Pattillo,” Ray says from the backseat. Gavin jumps and swerves wide, nearly tipping the fucking car, Jack's hand shooting out to steady himself on the dashboard before they crash back down to all four wheels.

“Jesus, Ray, bloody scared me!” The engine revs again and they kick into a higher gear. Jack shakes his head fondly and looks back at Ray, shrugging like 'what can you do?'.

“Uh-oh, cops are here. We're fucked.” Ray pauses in consideration. “Well, you're fucked. I'm already dead. So...suck it, losers!” And he leaves with that, but he watches from above as they dodge and shoot and finally escape.

He'll float around the shower as Ryan scrubs off his face paint, hover over the TV as Geoff beats Gavin at Halo. Sometimes he's silent but constantly flickering in and out of view just to fuck with them. Other times he narrates their daily lives like a sports commentator.

 

“Aaaaaand here's Jack with the final flip and, ladies and gentlemen, the pancakes are made!” Complete with a whisper-shout reenactment of a cheering crowd.

 

“Is he gonna do it? Can he do it, ladies and gentlemen? Can he do it?” And then Gavin chokes again trying to deepthroat Michael and Ray hollers, “No, no he cannot! Gavin Free, everybody, still got that gag reflex!” But Gavin only whines half-heartedly at him, not even bothered to sound offended at this point.

 

“Here he is, ladies and gentlemen, the Vagabond, the Mad King, the Skull – it's the one and only Ryan Haywood!” As Ryan exits the shower, face paint still smudged around his eyes and a towel hanging low on his hips. He glares at Ray but Ray just flashes him the biggest shit-eating grin he can find and Ryan rolls his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips.

 

“It's Jones vs. Ramsey in a fight to the death! Who will win? Place your bets now.” As Michael and Geoff square off in a death match in Call of Duty.

 

Sometimes, though, sometimes it's not so funny.

Ray shimmers into sight next to Geoff, who's sitting alone in his office, weighed down heavy by whiskey and sadly still not drunk enough to sleep.

“It's okay, Geoff,” Ray says, sitting quietly on the desk. Geoff peeks out from his hand where it's propping his head up, one lazy blue eyes boring into Ray. He doubts, sometimes. Doubts himself, doubts his plans – and those doubts he can deal with, pushing them away and ignoring them. But sometimes he doubts the crew and it's those nights he can't handle, the nights he drinks himself stupid and still wakes up remembering every single doubt. He hates that they ever appear, that he could possibly doubt the crew – he trusts them with his goddamn life and yet – still he wonders if something's going to go wrong. If something else will – just look at what happened to Ray.

“Go away,” he groans.

“Nope,” Ray says, quiet but firm.

“Please?”

“No.”

And sometimes the alcohol hits Geoff in one dizzy rush and he starts crying, just barely, just a few tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes and Ray's still there, an oddly comforting presence despite the fact that he's, well, _not_ present. And he'll sit with him until morning.

 

Sometimes Ray checks in on Gavin and finds him drugging himself up again – old habits die hard, he guesses.

“Gavin, you don't need to do this,” Ray says as Gavin lines up coke with a credit card in his bathroom. He hasn't started yet, but the night's still young.

“Piss off, Ray,” he replies, weary, tired, _sad_. And Ray's never liked sad Gavin.

“Gavin, come on. You don't need this anymore – you know that.”

“Ray, I just – I just want to - “ Gavin sighs, shoulders dropping. “I don't know. I just – need to do this. Go away.”

“No.”

“Please. I don't want you to see this.”

“Then don't do it. Gavin, please, you don't need to.”

Gavin looks sadly up at Ray, mouth drawn into a frown.

“It's not your business,” he protests.

“Please. Put it away. Go back to bed.”

“'S lonely.” Gavin's melancholy now, absentmindedly pushing at the coke.

“Go to Michael's bed, then.”

Gavin shakes his head. “Can't. He'll be – I'm – I'm annoying, Ray, he needs a break. From me.”

Ray rolls his eyes. “Did he say that?”

“Well, no, but I know when I'm – I'm not - “ Not wanted. Bullshit. Ray says as much. Gavin sighs.

“Gavin, I promise you he won't be annoyed.” Ray so desperately wants to touch Gavin, ground him, comfort him.

“You promise?” Gavin peeks up at Ray again, heartbreakingly hopeful.

“Fuckin' – _yes_ , Gavin, I promise.”

A few long, quiet minutes later, Gavin speaks again.

“You're going to stay here until I leave, aren't you?” But he's not as down as before – something like relief in his voice.

“Yep,” Ray says, swinging his legs as he sits on the counter.

“Fine, then. I'll go.” Gavin knocks the coke into the bin and leaves the credit card next to the sink as he turns to go.

“Thanks, Ray,” he says as he opens the door. Ray nods and disappears.

He comes back a moment later, this time in Michael's room, watching Gavin worm his way under the blankets and snuggle into Michael as Michael puts an arm around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” he whispers, shy.

“'S fine,” Michael mumbles back, opening his eyes and knocking his forehead against Gavin's on the pillow. “Was wonderin' where you were.”

“I – I didn't – you - “ Gavin never finishes his thought, though, and Michael smiles at him gently, shutting his eyes and tugging Gavin impossibly closer.

“Stay,” he whispers. Gavin nods and Ray dissipates.

 

Sometimes Ray finds Ryan with too much blood on his hands, almost literally. The murder break's long broken and there's a gruesome trail of bodies behind Ryan and Ray finds him in the hidden moments Ryan never shows the crew, the moments where he savours the crack of a broken neck and the dying wheezes of a punctured lung – the close, gritty encounters with death that are too dark to expose. Ray's there, though, glad he can't smell the stench of sweat and blood and innards, and he floats nearby while Ryan recovers, pulls himself out of _himself_ and breathes again, the itch satisfied.

“I'm sorry, Ray,” he says, looking mournfully down at his blood-stained shoes. Ray doesn't like the murder, the brutal snap of bones and splash of blood, but he pops in to remind Ryan who he really is, to pull him back to the crew – just like he did when he was alive.

“Don't be,” Ray says.

 

Sometimes Ray pops in when Jack's flying dangerously low over the city, sits calmly in the passenger seat and makes sure Jack doesn't hit any buildings. Jack's always more careful when there's a crew member with him – dead or alive – and at least this way he doesn't have to worry about Ray falling out. What started as a slightly suicidal thrill seek becomes a harmless race against the birds, Ray pretending to shoot them as Jack laughs and soars over hills.

 

Sometimes Ray appears when Michael's punching walls again, all fury and anger and pain.

“You should probably stop before your knuckles get worse,” Ray notes, wincing as Michael slams his fist into the drywall again.

“Fuck off,” Michael snaps, shoulders tense.

“Michael - “

“Fuck _off_ , Ray.”

Ray doesn't.

“Michael, it wasn't your fault.”

Michael whirls around then, teeth gritted and fists clenched. Ray waits patiently.

“You can't fucking tell me what is my fault or not.”

“Last I checked, you can't fucking touch me. So, yeah, I think I will tell you, asshole,” Ray shoots back. Michael growls and steps menacingly towards him, but Ray's a fucking ghost. He can't be intimidated.

“Shut up.”

“No. Stop blaming yourself.”

“Ray, shut the fuck up.”

“No.” Ray cocks an eyebrow and crosses his arms, sitting back in the chair. Michael's about to break, he knows it. Recognises this type of rage, the one that's hiding everything inside and he knows that Michael's beating himself up over nothing again – it's not his fault the police got smart.

It's a tense standoff for a minute and then Michael sighs, scrubs his hands over his face. He laughs humourlessly, face still in his hands.

“You don't understand, Ray. Just – leave me alone, okay?” A shuddering breath in and then Michael powers on. “Please, just – just go.”

Ray recognises the choked up hitch in his voice and he knows Michael's about to cry. It's always surprised him that Michael's the most openly emotional of the crew, the one with his heart on his sleeve, but Ray guesses it makes sense. Michael was always the most volatile of the crew.

Michael's never liked people seeing him cry – not over important things, anyway, like close calls and near-misses. Ray watches for a minute and Michael lowers his hands, rubs the bloody knuckles on his shirt, and Ray doesn't miss the unnaturally wet sheen in his eyes.

“Go away, Ray,” he says, softer this time.

And as much as Ray doesn't want to, he leaves. Michael doesn't want him to see this.

He leaves but he returns a few minutes later to find Michael sitting on the floor, knees drawn up and back against the wall, hands over his face again as he tries to calm down.

“Hey,” Ray says, sitting down beside him. Their shoulders would be touching if Ray was real right now.

Michael's silent for a beat and then his throat clicks as he swallows.

“Did anyone ever tell you how you died?” He says, whispers in the space between them.

“Uh, yeah? Police officer got me. I do remember my death, you know.”

Michael shakes his head. “No, no, you – it wasn't – it was my fault – I didn't – I was supposed to take him down, I didn't get there in time – I didn't – “

“Hey, hey, shut up,” Ray scolds softly, wishing he could knock his foot against Michael's right now.

“No, Ray, you don't – if it wasn't for me you'd be alive. If I'd – I'd done my fucking _job_ , you'd still _be_ here - “

“Michael, please. Stop blaming yourself. It happened, it's over. And I'm still here, aren't I?” A grin at that last statement, but Michael isn't looking. He's stopped shaking, though, and Ray takes that for a good sign.

“...I miss you, Ray.” Admitted so quietly Ray's not even sure he heard it, but then Michael's lifting his head and tipping it back against the wall, cheeks flushed and tear tracks still drying. He sniffles.

“Goddamnit, Ray, I really fucking miss you,” he whispers, glancing over at him. Ray smiles and Michael hesitantly smiles back.

“Good thing I'm not gone, then,” he says. Michael looks up at the ceiling again and doesn't respond.

Ray stays with him until Jack walks in with bandages, clearly expecting Michael to still be punching walls.

Ray watches, invisible, as Jack tenderly wraps Michael's knuckles, giving him a soft kiss before he stands up, pulling Michael up with him.

\----

One of the only things Ray misses from the corporeal world – besides sex and beds – is his DS.

So he asks Ryan to play for him, watching as he presses the little buttons and finishes whatever game Ray was on before he died.

“Aw, Ryan, you fucked me!” He exclaims, throwing his hands into the air as he floats behind Ryan. “You killed me! You murdered me!”

Ryan waves a hand behind him, right through Ray's body, and Ray dissipates only to reappear in front of Ryan, arms crossed and eyes serious.

“Ryan, you realise that fucking _dying_ means you have to do the whole game again? From the beginning?”

Ryan laughs and then he sobers up, eyes locked on Ray.

“Wait, from the beginning?”

“The very beginning,” Ray repeats, nodding his head somberly.

“What – aren't there checkpoints?!”

“Nope.”

“What the – no, no, fuck this. I'm playing something with actual checkpoints.” He goes to exit the game and a sudden urge of protectiveness surges through Ray and he reaches out – uselessly – to bat the DS away from Ryan.

Except it's not so uselessly this time, and the controller bounces out of Ryan's hands, knocked from them with the force of – of Ray's hand?

Ray pauses and they both look at his hand, wide-eyed, before looking at each other.

“Holy shit,” Ray says.

“Did you just - “

“Yeah.”

Ryan slowly extends his arm, carefully brushing against Ray's ghost hand, but it's exactly that, a ghost hand, and Ryan's fingers go right through it.

“Try focusing,” Ryan says, and Ray rolls his eyes but focuses nonetheless, even going so far as to close his eyes.

“Anything?” he asks after a minute. He cracks open an eye to see Ryan shaking his head.

“So, were you just _that_ protective of your DS?” Ryan asks, raising an eyebrow.

“No comment.”

“Ray, are you telling me you care enough about your fucking DS to _solidify_?”

“Uh.”

“And that when I threaten your _DS_ , you can hit it, but when – oh, I don't know – my _life_ is in danger all you can do is offer a lame joke?” Ryan's voice goes up in disbelief.

“You know what? I plead the fifth. Get a warrant, asshole.” And Ray disappears. Ryan shouts for him but he doesn't dare reappear – he's not entirely sure that Ryan won't break his DS just to make him corporeal so he can beat the shit out of him.

Ryan chuckles softly and settles back into his spot on the sofa. Ray flips him off - invisibly, of course. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for the non-ending but I've been staring at this for a week and nothing I wrote felt right so I just left it at that. Maybe I'll come back to it, who knows? If anyone has any suggestions for a better ending, like, a scenario or moment that I could end on, please feel free to tell me in the comments.


End file.
